


Find the Spark

by maychorian



Series: Through the Walls [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Mild Angst, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maychorian/pseuds/maychorian
Summary: It started with a simple thought. Just a single word, really. It wandered through Jason's head while he was gazing dreamily out a window, taking a break from reading his book. There wasn't really a form to the thought. It drifted into his head without prompting.I guess Bruce is my dad now.Title fromJosefin by First Aid Kit.In the dark, the growing dark, you know that you can find the sparkThat guides you home, my friend
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Through the Walls [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845763
Comments: 87
Kudos: 512





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have ideas for two more chapters, one for Tim and one for Dick. We'll see how long it takes me to write them. I have been feeling very drained, mentally, emotionally, and creatively, by the state of the world. And I am about to go on six weeks of medical leave to deal with a problem with my right eye, and I will not be able to see well, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to write during that period. I'll probably still try, but we'll have to see.

It started with a simple thought. Just a single word, really. It wandered through Jason's head while he was gazing dreamily out a window, taking a break from reading his book. There wasn't really a form to the thought. It drifted into his head without prompting. _I guess Bruce is my dad now._

Jason blinked and looked around the room, as if someone else had whispered the word in his ear. _Dad. Bruce is my dad._ But no one was there, of course. It was just him and his book.

It was newly spring, and the world outside the window was starting to look more and more appealing. Green and fresh and new with flowers. The manor employed several gardeners to maintain the expansive grounds, of course, but there was also a section that Alfred seemed to keep for himself: a lovely little rose garden not far from the family kitchen. It was just in sight from the corner of Jason's window, and it was there his gaze had drifted as his thoughts wandered away from his book.

Alfred wasn't there right now, watering his roses or carefully clipping stems in a way that seemed calculated and planned, though Jason didn't understand the reasoning. It was just an empty garden in several shades of green. Buds had started coming in, but there wasn’t much color yet. It was pretty, though. Jason had been thinking about going down there, maybe in a couple of hours.

Tim had another cold, this one he'd caught from Jason instead of the other way around. At least they were pretty sure that was the way it had gone this time. The whole winter had been miserable, just cold after cold after flu after sniffles striking both Jason and Tim. Alfred said that it was because their immune systems had been depressed by the bad five months, when they didn't have enough food and sunlight and suffered from constant abuse. Or maybe the word was suppressed. Something about their immune systems.

It made sense, Jason supposed. It sucked, though. Pittman was still hurting them even though they'd been free for months now. He hated when Tim got sick, almost as much as he hated being sick himself. Tim always tried to hide away somewhere in a vain attempt to quarantine himself from Jason so he wouldn't make him sick, but it never worked. They spent way too much time together to avoid each other's germs.

Jason sighed and shifted in his chair, feeling restless. He hunted around for a bookmark and stuck it in his book, then left it on the chair and listlessly wandered out into the hall. He stood by Tim's door for a moment, listening, but there were no sounds from within. Either Timmy was sleeping heavily, so heavily that he wasn’t even coughing or snuffling, or he was hiding somewhere else.

Jason walked down the hall, trailing his hand over the molding. Maybe he could go find Alfred or someone else to hang out with. It was technically a schoolday, but he and Tim were being homeschooled for the rest of the year to let them get caught up on the semester they'd missed. It also made it easier when one of them got sick and wouldn't be able to go to school anyway.

Jason had finished his schoolwork before noon, like he usually did, so he had the rest of the day to read what he wanted or go train in the cave or whatever. Tim took a bit longer, and he grumbled and groaned over his worksheets like any normal kid, but by this time of the day he'd usually be done, too, and he and Jason could hang out together. So maybe it made sense that Jason was feeling bored and lonely without him.

He didn't know why he was thinking about Bruce, though. That made no sense. It also didn't make sense for him to suddenly think about Bruce as his dad. He hadn't even officially adopted them yet. They were waiting for the Drakes' parental rights to be severed so they could all do it together.

Jason made his way down the stairs to the TV lounge where he and Tim often ended up at the end of the day, winding down before bedtime. Sometimes Bruce would come in and hang out with them for a while before going out into the city to fight crime. Dick, too, when he was home. 

To his mild surprise, he found Tim in the lounge, curled up on a sofa under what looked like three blankets and staring at the currently turned-off big screen TV. Jason snorted in amusement, then walked a little closer and waved his hand in front of Tim's face. He was careful to keep a small distance away so Tim wouldn't freak out at him about "breaking protocol" and then drag himself to his feet and wander away. "Heya, Timmy. Still feeling like a turd in a bucket?"

Tim blinked, long and slow, then shifted his head slightly to look up at him and frowned. "Jay." His voice was raspy and a little mushy, like his throat was full of phlegm. Jason grimaced in sympathy.

"It's me." Jason gestured at the TV. "Were you watching something, and you just didn't bother moving when it finished? I can get something on for you, if you want. Star Wars? Muppets? The MCU? Something else that's owned by Disney?"

Tim snorted softly, then turned his face down to hide against the pillow he'd probably dragged from his bed. Or Bruce's. Tim had a tendency to hoard comfort items that belonged to other people when he was feeling sick, like having them close made him feel closer to their owners. "No thanks. I... My head hurts."

Jason frowned. "Do you need a painkiller? I can get Alfred."

"No." Tim's voice was miserable. "It's only been an hour since the last one. I can't yet."

Jason wrinkled his nose. Being sick sucked so hard. He took care to keep his voice low and gentle. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Nah. Maybe...we could talk about something? Something besides me being sick and everything being awful."

Jason huffed out a breath and sat down in a chair a little ways off from Tim's sofa. "Okay. What do you want to talk about?"

"I dunno. What have you been doing today?"

"Schoolwork. Reading." Jason paused. "I could get my book and read it to you." 

"No thanks. Maybe later."

Jason hummed. "Alfred's rose garden is looking really pretty. I was thinking about going out to see it later today. Too bad you can't come with me."

Tim made a grumpy noise.

Jason paused. "Also... It occurred to me. Kind of out of the blue. That Bruce is my dad? Or he's gonna be my dad. Bruce Wayne. My dad. Weird, right? I mean, it's been that way for months, but... I dunno, it didn't really hit me until today."

Tim made a considering noise. 

"Have you thought about that? About the fact that... Bruce is your dad? Or gonna be your dad?"

Tim made an amused noise. "Yeah. I mean, kinda from the moment he offered to foster us. And I guess I never told you, but in the hospital, the first night... That was when he first told me that he wanted to adopt us. He knew from the beginning that he wanted to be our dad. So yeah, I thought it about it a lot."

"Isn't it weird, though? That, like. Bruce Wayne. Is your dad. Isn't that weird to you?"

Tim shifted where he lay. "Well, yeah. I mean, at first it was super weird, because, you know. Batman. I didn't expect..." He sighed, then coughed, muffling himself in his blankets. He sniffed noisily and grabbed a kleenex from the box on the floor next to his head and blew his nose. His voice sounded even more phlegmy. "I didn't expect Batman to be so...kind."

"Yeah." Jason's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I didn't expect any of it. You know. You were there. All my plans. I had so many plans. But none of them, not a single one of them, ever included the idea of Bruce Wayne being so...so _good._ And so, like, eager to adopt a couple of random kids he picked up basically off the street."

Jason chuckled softly. "Yeah. Who would have thought?"

"Dick Grayson might have thought. It basically went the same way for him. Bruce just happened to be there the night his parents were murdered, and then the next thing you know, he's fostering the random circus boy who just got orphaned. But besides Dick, yeah, probably no one ever would have thought."

They were silent for a while. Jason stared into the distance, scraping his thumbnail against the fabric of the chair arm. "Do you think..."

Tim made a listening noise. 

"Do you think you'll ever...call Bruce that? Do you think you'll ever call him Dad?"

Tim shifted his shoulders. "I dunno." His voice was a mumble. "I dunno if he'd want me to."

Jason narrowed his eyes. That wasn't a question at all in his head. "Of course he would want you to. He was really, like, _super_ clear that he wanted to be your dad. Both of our dad, I mean."

Tim hummed noncommittally.

"Or maybe...you don't want to? Because you still have a dad, technically?" Jack Drake barely counted as a dad, as far as Jason was concerned, but maybe he still held some weight for Tim, despite everything.

"I 'unno," Tim said in even more of a mumble. It sounded like he was laying face down and hadn't bothered turning his head to talk. "I th'n B'uce z a b'dr dad f' shr."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Are you saying that you think Bruce is a better dad than Jack? Because if so, yes. He is. No doubt about it."

Tim turned head and sighed. "Yeah. I don' wanna talk about this anymore, Jay."

"Okay." Jason looked up at the ceiling. He guessed it was kind of a heavy topic to bring up when Tim was feeling under the weather and just wanted something light to pass the time. "What do you think Dick is doing right now?"

There, that was a better idea. Tim's voice brightened up, and he started rattling off ideas about where Dick was and what he was doing with the Titans. It sucked having Dick gone so much of the time, but Jason couldn't really blame him. He was being a super cool hero and fighting aliens and stuff. He even had an alien girlfriend, and Kori was the coolest person ever in the history of the world. Or the history of space.

Eventually Tim drifted off mid-word, snuffling adorably. Jason smiled and sat there for a while longer, then hopped to his feet and went out to see the garden. The idea of calling Bruce "Dad" had disappeared from his mind, and he didn't think of it again for several weeks.

The next time it came into his head was a therapy day. It had become routine for Bruce to take the afternoon off from work and drive them into the city himself, then sit in the waiting room while Tim and Jason each had their hour-long session. He would keep company with whichever boy was not in with the doctor, chatting or playing phone games or just sitting quietly as needed. 

Today, Tim had gone first, so Jason was waiting his turn. He was always antsy when he knew he was going to see Dr. Thacker soon, but today was worse than usual. He'd been thinking all week about what he wanted to discuss with her. He was pretty sure that he was ready to start talking about Pittman.

Not in detail, not about what Pittman had done. Nothing like that. He just had...questions. And Dr. Thacker was a psychologist, so she had studied people. A lot. So maybe she knew the answers. Maybe not. But at the very least she would probably have something interesting to say. After his initial hesitance to meet with her at all, Jason had found Dr. Thacker to be a pretty cool person to talk to. She had read a lot, and she knew a lot about all kinds of things, and she was okay with answering questions no matter how weird they were.

So Jason was sitting on the edge of his seat, his shoulders raised and arms straight as he drummed his fingers on his knees, his eyes trained on the floor. Bruce was sitting next to him, humming aimlessly as he read something on his phone. Bruce's arm was stretched casually across the back of Jason's chair, but he wasn't touching him, and he wouldn't unless Jason initiated it first. But it was good. It was nice to know that he was there.

It felt...safe. Sheltering.

Jason was tired of thinking about the upcoming session and his questions for Dr. Thacker, so he let his mind wander a bit. He thought about Bruce's arm, right behind him on the chair. He could almost feel its warmth, though he knew that probably wasn't possible, with almost a foot of separation. Still.

He had a memory, sudden and sharp, of sitting on the sofa with his dad, watching TV. His first dad, Willis Todd. Jason was very small in the memory, barely old enough to see over the top of a table. The TV was showing some action movie, planes or fast cars or something. Willis had the day off, and he was watching TV and hanging out with his kid.

And it was a good day. Willis was laughing at the screen. He put his arm around Jason and pulled him into his side, leaning over so his cheek pressed the top of Jason's head. He pointed at the screen with one finger, the rest of his hand holding the neck of his beer bottle. He said something, but Jason couldn't remember the words anymore. Tiny Jason could smell the beer on his father's breath, but he hadn't learned to fear that smell yet. He grinned, because he was small and safe, and the show on the TV was cool. And he felt warm, so warm, with his dad's arm wrapped around him.

Jason drummed his fingers on his knee, his mind full of that soft, mingled warmth, the memory of his dad, the questions he wanted to ask Dr. Thacker. He leaned back, his shoulder blade barely touching Bruce's arm across the back of his chair. "Hey, Dad, do you think..."

He stopped talking, eyes flying wide. Bruce had stopped humming and sat very, very still. Jason could barely breathe.

Slowly, so slowly, Jason turned his head and looked at Bruce. Dread weighed down his chest. He kind of wanted to puke.

Bruce was _beaming._ It was a full-on toothy grin, lips stretched so wide it looked like it hurt. Jason had never seen Bruce smile like that, ever. It was far more broad and genuine than the false, easy smiles of Brucie, more joyful and sunny then the soft smiles he had for his family in his true face. Looking at this Bruce Wayne, with his brilliant, overwhelming grin, it was absolutely impossible to believe that he was Batman.

Jason blinked. "Um..." His voice wavered, on the edge of a crack.

Bruce couldn't stop smiling. He nudged Jason's shoulder with his hand. "You had a question for me, son?"

Everything had fled out of Jason's head. He could not remember what he had been about to ask Bruce if his life depended on it. It was all gone.

"I don't, uh..." Jason blinked rapidly. "Was...was that okay?" His voice was so soft he could barely hear himself.

"Okay?" Bruce's smile faded slightly, but only a little. He set his phone on his knee and reached up to wipe his eyes. The tiniest amount of moisture came away on his fingers. "You mean...calling me Dad?"

Jason nodded mutely.

Bruce beamed again, bright as a star. "Absolutely. It's...wonderful. I don't..." He had to stop and draw in a deep breath. "No one's ever called me that before. I loved it."

Jason stared. "Not even Dickie?"

Bruce shook his head slowly, his face going solemn. "We left that off the table, remember? Now, I... I regret that more than anything. I should have asked again. I should have let him know that I wanted it. Maybe we..." He shook his head again. "I hope he will find his way to calling me that someday, but I don't know how long it will take. Whatever he wants, whatever he's comfortable with, I'll live with it."

Jason nodded and swallowed. "I didn't mean to," he said in a small voice. "It kind of just...came out."

Bruce's face was utterly serious. "I'm honored, Jason. Truly, truly honored that you can think of me like that. After everything you've been through, everything you experienced... I am _flabbergasted_ by your strength, your healing, how far you've come in just a few short months. You're amazing. Thank you so much." 

He sat back slightly, removing his arm from the back of Jason's chair, only to hold both arms toward him. "May I hug you?"

Jason's face flamed with embarrassment, but he nodded, a tiny smile struggling onto his face. Bruce leaned forward and folded him in, holding him firmly but gently against his chest. Jason's arms rose and wrapped around him in return, not too tight because the position was a little awkward with them sitting in side-by-side chairs.

Tim was right. Getting a hug from Bruce kind of was like being hugged by a tree. He was so tall and strong and kind of just...huge, in ways that transcended mere physicality. Jason nestled his face into Bruce's shirt and closed his eyes. He still felt a tiny little twinge of unease, way at the back of his mind, but it was easy to ignore, now. He knew it wasn't real. The current reality, the presence of Bruce holding him, being his _dad,_ far outweighed the memories of the men who had hurt him once upon a time.

"I love you, Jaylad," Bruce murmured, his voice vibrating through Jason's head. And wow, Tim was right about that, too. It felt awesome.

"Thanks, Dad," Jason whispered back. Was he gonna use that from now on? It came out so easily. He didn't even think about it, same as the first time. He could feel Bruce grinning just as big.

They held each other for what seemed like a long, long time.

Of course, it wasn't quite that easy. Sometimes he still called Bruce by his first name. But sometimes he called him Dad, too. The first time he did it in Tim's presence, Tim stared at him blankly for about two minutes straight. Jason didn't care, really. Tim's opinion meant a lot to him, but they both knew by now that they were not the same person, and Tim's hang-ups were not Jason's hang-ups.

It was okay that Dick and Tim didn't call Bruce Dad. That was fine. They had their own journeys. Plus, it made it feel kind of like a special little thing just between Jason and Bruce. He called him Dad, once in a while, when he felt like it, and Bruce beamed that big sunny grin like he'd never been happy for a single second in his life before that moment, and then he called Jason "son" in return, and it was cool. Like a little catchphrase just for them.

Jason loved his dad, Bruce Wayne, and he knew he was loved in return. It felt like finding an oasis after a long trek through a desert. It felt like finding shelter in a storm.

It felt like coming home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing every day, not always fiction, sometimes just freewriting or journaling. I really fell out of the habit in the absolute mind-wreck that was 2020. But here are the first fruits of my new resolution. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> I'm still not sure when chapter 3 of this story will be written, or when I'll update my other stories. But I definitely intend to keep going.

"I just don't see what the problem is."

Tim's voice was rising into a whine, Bruce noted with a distant part of his mind. He was still putting most of his attention into the computer screen in front of him, making notes after a night of patrol. He was still wearing his uniform, just the cowl pushed back, and sweat was drying on his forehead in the cool of the cave. He needed to shower and go to bed, but the notes came first.

And also dealing with Tim, who had tromped down into the cave all smiles when Bruce returned from his night work, eager to talk to him. That eagerness was gone, now, and Tim was all but stomping his foot in frustration.

"It's just a movie marathon. Ives and his friends are going. I won't be alone. C'mon, Bruce!"

"I said no," Bruce said, still clacking away the keyboard. "It's too dangerous for you to be out that late at night."

"It's just the Upper East Side! That's not even a dangerous part of town!"

"Not normally, but there's been a rise in gang activity, lately, and some of the dealers have been branching out in that area. It's just not safe, sweetheart."

Now Tim literally stomped his foot. It was childishly adorable, Bruce noted with an amused corner of his mind. He'd never seen Tim act so, well...act his age. Not like this. He was always so strong, so in control, so earnest in his efforts to take care of both himself and his brother. But in this moment, he didn't just look like a ten-year-old, he felt like one.

"Bruce!" That was definitely a whine in his voice. It was starting to grate. "Be reasonable!"

Bruce sighed and closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself, then carefully pivoted away from the computer to face his youngest son. He kept his voice purposefully calm. "I am being reasonable. I listened to your request, I considered the options, and I made my decision. The answer is no. Your safety is paramount to me, and as your father, I have decided..."

"You're not my dad!" Tim shrieked, overwhelmed with frustration.

Bruce sat still in shock, his mouth hanging open.

Tim's eyes widened to saucer-size, and his cheeks flamed red as he stared at Bruce, nearly as shocked as Bruce by the words that had come out of his mouth. "I..."

Bruce sat forward and reached out toward him, his hand still covered by his black gauntlet. "Timbit..."

Tim turned on his heels and fled, racing up the stairs in a desperate clatter.

Bruce's immediate impulse was to sprint after him. But he denied that impulse and sat still, his muscles locking up and keeping him in that chair. Tim was still a traumatized child, despite all the progress he'd made over the past half a year. It would do no good for Bruce, a large and physically intimidating man, to chase after him when he was feeling overwhelmed and out of control. Better to let Tim retreat and gather himself, then have a talk with him later after he'd had a chance to calm down.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, his eyes squeezing shut, and took a few deep breaths to calm his own pounding heart and troubled mind. Then he closed the computer and went to shower and change. He could finish his notes tomorrow. They could wait. His son could not.

Bruce took the elevator up, thinking on the way about the best way to approach this matter. Then he went not to Tim's room, but to Jason's. He had learned long ago that when he was having trouble understanding Tim, he should talk to Jason. And vice versa. The boys knew each other so well that talking to the other was like having a cheat code to look into their minds.

Jason was curled up in an armchair under a lamp in his sitting area, covered with an afghan and reading a book. Bruce knocked his knuckles on the side of his open door to announce his presence, and Jason looked up, blinking away the haze of being deeply buried in a fictional world. He saw Bruce standing in his doorway and gave him a smile, then straightened up in his chair and set the book aside. 

Half of his room was now full of bookshelves, renovated to fit Tim's early vision of making Jason's space into a personal library. The floor was covered with thick, colorful rugs, and there were several chairs and beanbags suitable for reading. Bruce pulled one of the chairs closer to where Jason sat and folded himself into it with a sigh.

"Hey, son. Good book?"

Jason glanced at the book he had set aside. Bruce could see from the cover that it was a fantasy series, though he wasn't familiar with it. "Pretty good. I'm still getting into it, that's only the second book of twelve, but I'm enjoying it so far."

Normally Bruce would be content to sit with Jason and listen to him talk at length about the books he was reading, but today he was on a mission. "Have you seen Tim in the last half hour or so?"

Jason shook his head. "Not for a while. We played some video games after dinner, but then he went off and I came up here to read. I haven't seen him since. Why? Did something happen?"

"Nothing serious," Bruce said soothingly, aware of the anxious pitch to Jason's voice. "He asked me for something, and I told him no. He yelled at me and ran off. I was hoping maybe he'd come to you with his frustrations, but it looks like he's chosen to hide instead." Hiding was very high up on Tim's list of coping methods. Bruce wasn't particularly surprised that he'd chosen it this time as well.

Jason's eyes widened. "He _yelled_ at you? Timmy did that? Really?"

Bruce chuckled. "Yes, really. He did not like being told that he couldn't go somewhere just because I didn't deem it safe."

"Oh, was it that movie marathon he wanted to go to with his old school friend?"

"That's the one. He was very excited about it, so I'm sure I disappointed him."

"Yeah, he was chattering up a storm." Jason stared off across the room. "I'm actually kinda surprised that he even thought to ask your permission."

"He did seem very confident that I would allow it. He was really just asking permission to take one of our drivers for the night. I suppose he thought it would be easier than taking a cab or a bus. When I refused him, he was so shocked he didn't speak for a moment. And then he tried to argue me into changing my mind."

"Tim is used to doing whatever he wants. You know, no parents around."

"Ah." Suddenly, it clicked. "I hurt his sense of independence. That's why he took it so hard."

Jason gave him a shrewd look. "You get it now."

"Yes." Bruce huffed out a breath. "But he's only ten."

"He'll be eleven next month."

Bruce smiled. "And you'll be fourteen. That's still not old enough to go out to a dangerous part of Gotham into the small hours of the morning."

"No, but Tim doesn't see it that way." Jason was quiet for a moment. "This was the first time Tim yelled at you, right?"

Bruce nodded.

"I bet it stung. It always does, coming from him. He's such a sweet little stinker most of the time that when he goes ballistic, it really catches you off guard."

Bruce rubbed his hand over his heart. "It's not really the fact that he yelled, so much, as the words he used."

Jason eyebrows rose. "What did he say?"

"'You're not my dad.'"

Jason winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah."

Jason sighed and slumped in his chair, then flipped the afghan off his legs and stood up, just to lean over and wrap his arms around Bruce's neck. Bruce was sufficiently startled that he didn't respond for a split second, but then he hugged him back, fiercely. Jason grunted, and Bruce let off the pressure a bit.

When he’d had his fill, Jason pulled back and patted Bruce's cheek, then curled up in his chair again. "It's okay, Dad. He didn't mean it. Tim just has...issues...with that word."

"With the word 'dad?'" 

Jason nodded solemnly. "I think he'll get over it eventually. But it's just, you know, raw right now."

"Hnn." Bruce sat for a few more moments, considering. Then he gently pushed himself to his feet and ruffled Jason's hair. "Thanks for the talk, Jaylad. Your insights into Tim are always very valuable."

Jason gave him a sunny grin. "Any time, old man."

Bruce flicked his ear with a chuckle, then saw himself out.

He checked Tim's room next, but wasn't surprised that he wasn't there. Next he went to Dick's room, but it was dark and still, undisturbed. No tuft of unruly hair under the bed, no small curled-up form in the closet. Dick’s room and Tim’s room were Tim's top two hiding places. If he wasn't using one of those, this search was going to get a lot more difficult.

After looking through Dick's room, Bruce stood in the hall for a few moments, thinking. Then he went to his own room. The lamp beside the bed was already on when he opened the door. And there was Tim, sitting against the headboard on top of Bruce’s pillows. He was holding his knees against his chest, and his face was streaked with dried tears. When he saw Bruce, his expression twisted up.

"Oh, Timbit." 

Bruce crossed the room in what felt like two strides and sat down on the bed, pulling Tim into his arms, into his lap. He felt a pang at how well Tim filled the space—in a couple of years he might be too big to curl up like this inside Bruce's arms, tucked under his chin. Tim wrapped his hands in Bruce's shirt and clung to him, snuffing back tears.

"I'm sorry," Tim choked out. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it."

"Shh, I know, I know. It's okay, sweetheart." Bruce rocked him in his arms. He rubbed his chin on the top of Tim's head, smelling that apple-scented shampoo. "I know you were just upset. I thwarted you, and you were frustrated and didn't know how to deal with it, so you lashed out. I understand. You're forgiven."

Tim clung to him for a while, trembling, then pushed back to sit on the pillows again so he could look into Bruce's face. A few more tears trickled down his reddened cheeks, and he didn't bother to wipe them away. "You are my dad. Really, you are. And not just because a piece of paper says so."

Bruce smiled and chucked his chin. "That's right. I have a receipt and everything."

Tim smiled back tremulously, then scrubbed at his face. "I just... I never thought that you might say no. And then you did, and just... It really..." He pressed his hands over his chest, struggling to communicate his feelings.

"I injured your pride." Bruce laid a hand on top of his head and left it there like he was holding him in place, this wild, half-feral child. "You're used to doing whatever you want, going out into Gotham and hiking around in dangerous places whenever it pleases you. You're a very independent young man, and I treated you like a child, so your sense of identity took a blow. I'm sorry I hurt you, no matter how well-intentioned I was."

Tim nodded, his head shifting under Bruce's hand, and wrapped his arms around his belly as he contemplated his words. "Yeah, you're right, I... I know it got me in trouble in the end, but I used to travel all over Gotham at night whenever I wanted, and I know you don't want me to do that anymore, so I haven't, I promise I haven't sneaked out or anything, ever, but I still..."

"Do you miss it?" Bruce asked gently.

Tim's shoulders sagged, his body slumping. Then he straightened up and grabbed Bruce's hand and moved it off his head. "Yes," he said seriously. "I miss it. I know I'm not ready to be Robin yet, but do you think, someday...?"

"Someday." Bruce rubbed his arm.

He was not willing to put a date on it, not anytime soon. But he knew eventually Tim was going to be like Dick, following Bruce out into the night whether he allowed it or not. He was still trying to brace himself for that eventuality. Tim was so small, so fragile, he was Bruce's _baby,_ but at some point Bruce was going to have to accept the boy at his side before resentment had a chance to grow.

Tim rubbed his hand under his nose and looked up at Bruce, his face hopeful. "So, now you had a chance to think about it, did you change your mind?"

Bruce started to shake his head, reflexively, then held still. "Let's talk about it a little more. You said your friend Ives invited you to this movie marathon, right?"

"Right. Well, basically he said it would be cool if we could go, and I said that we definitely would. And he said he was going to invite a couple of his other friends too. We thought it would be a good way for me to get to know everyone before I start school in the fall."

Bruce nodded slowly. At least Tim and his friend hadn't planned to go out in the middle of the night alone, just the two of them. "What about parents? Or is it just going to be a bunch of middle school boys?"

Tim stared at him, thrown for a loop. The thought had obviously never crossed his mind that adults...parents...might come along. That anyone over the age of twelve would show interest in or concern about his activities. "I...I don't know."

"It's late now, but tomorrow, how about if I call Ives's parents and talk to them? Maybe we can work something out. The marathon is on a weekend, right?"

"Friday night," Tim said. "It's gonna start at nine and end at three. Star Wars under the Stars, they're calling it."

"All right, that sounds doable. Maybe Dick will be able to join you. Or if he's busy, maybe I could come. Did you ask Jason?"

"I didn't think about it. I mean, he's not a total Warsie like me and Ives, so I didn't think he'd enjoy it."

"We'll ask him. He might surprise you. And if he doesn't want to come, that's fine. The two of you are certainly entitled to your own hobbies and your own friend groups." He gave Tim a smile and ruffled his hair. 

Tim's face was even more hopeful now. "So are you saying yes? Are you changing your mind?"

"I'm saying that we'll discuss it," Bruce said. "I shouldn't have shut you down as harshly as I did. But there are going to be times when I will have to say no to you, and this still might be one of them. I know you don't feel like a child, most of the time, but you _are_ one. You're _my_ child. And that means I'm responsible for you, and I'm going to keep you safe. Even when you don't want me to."

Tims' face twisted in displeasure, but he took it graciously, in his own way. "Okay. I suppose I get it." His voice took on that weird, formal lilt he used when he was doing his absolute best to be mature and in control of himself. "You can't help being paranoid. I'll do my best to put up with it."

Bruce laughed and tugged him into another hug, holding the kid to his heart and shaking him back and forth in amusement. Tim was such a sweet-faced little cherub, it was always hilarious to hear him talk like a tiny business man. 

Tim grumbled at the rough, jovial treatment and pushed against Bruce's chest with his hands, but didn't seriously try to get away. After a bit, Bruce settled down and continue to hold him, resting his cheek against Tim's hair and rubbing his back. The child was pliable in his arms now, resting softly. In a few minutes Bruce should really get him into bed. But not right away. He could hold him for a little while.

"Bruce?" Tim's voice slightly muffled against his chest.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"I really am sorry I said that. I don't...I don't mind having you as a dad. I kind of like it. And by that I mean, actually, I really like it a lot. You're really cool, and you're really nice to me and Jason."

Bruce let his hand rest on Tim's back. His hand was so big, he almost spanned Tim's entire back from the heel of his hand to the tip of his longest finger. "I know," he said gently. "And I know you still love your old dad, too, even though he was not the nicest to you."

Tim's body tensed slightly, and Bruce heard a tiny sniffle, but he didn't draw away. If anything, he leaned on Bruce's chest even more heavily.

"You don't have to call me dad if you don't want to. I know when Jason started using that word, it bothered you a bit. Maybe because you thought I would expect you to use it, too. But I don't, all right? I would love it if you called me dad. Really, really love it. But there's no hurry. You don't have to use the word until you're ready, until you want to. And if you're never ready and you never want to, that's okay, too."

Tim nodded into his chest. His arms snaked around Bruce's middle and squeezed him tight. "Okay," he whispered. "Thank you."

Bruce kissed the top of his head.

A few minutes later, Bruce could feel how deep and relaxed Tim's breaths were getting, and his own body was telling him that it was time for bed. Fortunately it was the summer so Tim could sleep in tomorrow all he wanted, but Bruce really shouldn't be letting him get in the habit of staying up so late. He reluctantly chivvied Tim out of his lap to stand swaying on the floor, then led him to his own room with a hand on his shoulder.

Tim went through his bedtime routine, half-asleep the entire time, while Bruce stood nearby just in case he stumbled. Even now, after months of therapy, Tim still took his pajamas into the bathroom and changed behind a locked door. As much as he trusted Bruce and the rest of their family, some traumas were not swift to fade. 

Tim climbed into bed under his own power, and Bruce leaned over to tuck him in, arranging the covers and pillows just so. He finished with a resounding kiss to Tim's forehead, earning a soft, sleepy smile. Then his hand hovered over the switch for the lamp on the nightstand. "On or off tonight?"

Both Jason and Tim sometimes wanted the light and sometimes wanted the dark, sometimes wanted the door open and sometimes wanted it locked, sometimes wanted to share a bed with someone and sometimes wanted space. It was habit now to ask for their preferences every night, as routine as brushing teeth and putting on pajamas.

"Off, please," Tim said sleepily, opening one eye just a crack. "But leave the door partway open."

"You got it, champ."

Bruce stood in the hallway for a moment, carefully adjusting the door so just the right amount of light entered Tim's room without landing on his face and disrupting his rest. And just before he turned away, to his own bedtime routine and his own pillows, he heard a soft, tender voice drifting on the air.

"Good night, Dad."

Bruce went to sleep with a smile and slept peacefully till morning.


End file.
